


stubborn love

by buckydarling



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 14:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13436775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckydarling/pseuds/buckydarling
Summary: Hope and regret in the aftermath of the first day of the strike.





	stubborn love

**Author's Note:**

> ill do notes when it s not 3am

The evening sun that normally streamed through the lodging house windows was dulled by dark gray clouds, and they were out of bandages.

Albert finished his sweep of the room, still feeling unsatisfied; sure, a lot of the boys were laughing and joking, still riding the high of seeing their faces on the cover of the newspaper, but there were far too many injuries on far too many kids, and there was still no sign of Jack anywhere. David and Les had gone to search for him, but they’d been gone now for upwards of an hour. Patting Mush on the shoulder as he passed, wincing at the bandages wrapped around his knuckles from a nasty run-in with the bulls, Albert sighed, looking around the room and wishing he could do  _ more.  _

The spirit was doubly muted, Albert noted with a pang in his chest, by the glaring absence of Crutchie, his bunk sitting empty, neatly made the way he always left it.

Sighing, Albert shook his head, finding his last spare penny and deciding to go down to the pharmacy on the corner for more bandages. Last he’d seen, Race had been downstairs with Kloppman going over the names, making sure everyone else was accounted for, but when he walked down the stairs, mouth already open to ask Race if he wanted to go with him, Albert found only the old man sitting with the book, double-checking the names of all the boys. He frowned; Race hadn’t been upstairs either, and he wasn’t out with the group that was looking for Jack. Albert felt nerves twist a knot in his insides. He hurried out the door of the lodging house, turning the penny over and over between his fingers. 

He hadn’t even made it five feet from the building when he heard a quiet sniffling coming from one of the alleyways. Albert turned quickly, expecting to find another one of the younger boys or someone laid up with an injury, but his eyes landed on the all-too-familiar figure of a skinny teenage boy, hunched over on a crate and clutching something in his hands.

“Race?” Albert asked softly, entering the alleyway and crossing to where Race sat. Race didn’t look up, didn’t indicate that he’d heard Albert at all; he sat tense, his shoulders shaking, his eyes dull and hardened. 

He clutched Crutchie’s faded  _ STRIKE  _ banner in his hands. 

“I called him pitiful,” Race said, his voice low and hollow. 

Albert’s heart broke. He lowered himself onto the crate next to Race, reaching out and wrapping Race’s clenched hands in both of his own. “You didn’t know, Racer. You couldn’t’ve known.” Race shook his head fast.

 

“I should’ve, Albie,” he whispered. “We  _ knew  _ it was dangerous. We knew we was takin’ risks, and I still -- I still said --” His voice broke, his shoulders shaking violently, and a small, ragged sob burst out of his mouth. Albert’s chest tightened, and he pulled Race into his arms, holding him tightly as he cried into Albert’s shirt. Albert rubbed slow circles on Race’s back, burying his face in Race’s curls and murmuring soft nothings to reassure him. Race clung with one hand to the front of Albert’s shirt like a lifeline, his entire body trembling.

“He knew it was dangerous too,” Albert whispered. “He knew going in. We all did. You jus’ handled the fear in different ways, ‘s all.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Race’s head. “You were scared. We all were.”

Between their bodies, Race reached up and clutched at Albert’s hand, lacing their fingers tightly; Albert felt the rough material of the banner pressed between their palms, ragged and worn. “He had so much hope, Albie,” he whispered, his face still pressed into Albert’s chest. “Crutchie was different. He believed we were gonna win more than any of us.”

Albert shook his head. “It’s not over, Racer,” he whispered. “We can win. For Crutchie.” He set his jaw with quiet determination. “We gotta.” Race looked up at him, eyes wide and vulnerable and filled with sadness.

“How can we, if I’m still this scared?” he asked. “Crutchie was fearless. Look what happened to ‘im.” Albert shook his head with a soft smile, cradling Race’s cheek with a gentle hand.

“Don’t you remember what Davey said?” he reminded Race softly. “It ain’t about being fearless. It’s about being scared and fighting anyway, because it’s the right thing to do.” Albert kissed him then, gentle and steady, a reminder that neither of them was alone. Race curled his free hand in Albert’s shirt again, tugging him closer, kissing back soft and needy.

“I just can’t afford to  _ lose  _ anyone,” he whispered when they separated, their foreheads pressed together, and Albert shook his head, squeezing Race’s hand. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me,” he whispered fiercely. “I’ll soak every bull in New York with my hands tied behind my back before I let someone take me away from you.” Race kissed him again, letting go of their joined hands to thread his fingers through the soft hairs at the back of Albert’s neck. 

“For sure?” he whispered, their lips still brushing when he spoke. Albert nodded, kissing him soft and quick -- a promise.

“For sure.”

 


End file.
